


Breakfast

by kingdomkeeperofthelibrary



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Another one of my poetic style fics, Breakfast, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eve introspective, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I hope you like it, i dont even know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomkeeperofthelibrary/pseuds/kingdomkeeperofthelibrary
Summary: "There were mornings with burnt bacon, mornings with sticky, syrupy kisses, and mornings when breakfast was nothing more than two large cups of coffee before a 6-AM mission. But through all the differences and varieties, breakfast was a constant, and the constant was him...breakfast meant home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello LITs! I've always had fun writing "poetic" style Evlynn fics, where I don't really put dialogue and stuff in, just describe what's happening. One night I downloaded an old breakfast-making app I used to play with in middle school and somehow this happened. I first wrote it before the finale, so after that I added a second chapter of post-finale fluff! Hope you enjoy!

Breakfast was always the same when she was growing up. Every day before school she’d get dressed and eat the Lucky Charms her Mom had left for her on the counter while her Grandma sat opposite her, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Somehow that had become one of her favorite memories once she was older; it was a constant. When she thought of home, she thought of Lucky Charms for breakfast. And on her loneliest days she smiled to remember it.

When she was in college, training for the military, working out every day, pushing herself to be the best, breakfast was a constant again; every day the same meal: an egg-white omlette with spinach and tomatoes and mushrooms and feta cheese, and just like her grandmother through all those years, a hot cup of coffee on the side. Breakfast was a routine again, but not in the way that made her smile; it was just something that she always did.

After that, she really didn’t eat breakfast much. Her days were always so scheduled, so rushed, that it wasn’t ever something she really put thought into. Maybe sometimes, if she felt like a treat, she’d get a scone with her coffee when she stopped at Starbucks before a flight. But that was pretty much as far as she’d ever go. Unless she was visiting home, which was rare, breakfast was not a part of her life anymore. It just wasn’t something she had the time for, and when she did, she wasn’t used to enough to give it any time.

Things changed again the first time he made her breakfast.

She wasn’t expecting it, and she didn’t know what to think when it happened. They’d been dating for a couple of months, and they’d slept together plenty of times before, but it was the first time she’d spent the night. Normally, once they were done, she’d slip on her jeans and her sweater and walk herself home, both of them too used to being alone to consider spending that much time with anyone else. But the night before she’d started to get up and suddenly he’d grabbed her wrist and whispered for her to stay. And so she climbed under the covers and lay her head on his shoulder and before she knew it they were asleep.

She’d woken the next morning to be in bed by herself, and taken a few moments to grasp her bearings and remember where she was. That then called to question why he wasn’t next to her anymore. Worst case scenarios had just started to introduce themselves in her mind when she smelt the coffee.

She stood up and wrapped herself in the bed’s top sheet and shuffled her way out of the bedroom. She stopped and gasped to find him standing in the kitchen, holding a spatula and hovering over a frying pan. He must have heard her come in, because he turned around and flashed a nervous smile.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

“Hi yourself.” she said back.

“I just thought….” he started. “You know this is new for us and I didn’t know…..I guess….I thought I’d….breakfast. I thought you might want breakfast.”

She didn’t say a word and made her way into the kitchen and she couldn’t help but feel like a smiling teenager when she saw what she did. Two plates of eggs sat on the counter, and the pan was filled with bacon. A pot of coffee was ready too, just like her nose had promised.

“Sorry if it’s not much.” he said.

Before she could answer, the toaster dinged, sending up two pieces of cinnamon-raisin bread. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle.

“Maybe it’s _too_ much,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” she assured him. She leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek, causing him to stumble with a stupid smile.

“I love it,” she said. “It’s very sweet.”

When they sat down to eat they did so in mostly silence, communicating more in nervous giggles and head-tilts than actual words. But at one point, while he was up refilling the coffees, she froze, her eyes glancing across everything on the table, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many years it had been since she’d last had a breakfast like this-since she’d last had a breakfast at all really; it was so long she almost couldn’t remember.

She looked over at him again then, rocking back and forth on his heels and humming as he poured the coffee. She smiled, dumbfounded. She was in his apartment sitting down to breakfast. People with homes sat down to breakfast. People with families sat down to breakfast. She took a bite of her eggs, and thought that maybe she really could get used to this after all.

Breakfast still wasn’t a constant again after that, not yet, but it was an activity that she partook in. When they spent the night together they’d usually indulge the next morning. And even when she was alone for the night, and even when he was gone, she’d usually at least grab a bagel or a piece of fruit on her way to work. But her favorite mornings were still the ones sitting across from him at a table, eating bacon and eggs and cinnamon toast.

As the years went on, as they got closer, and as he stayed longer, they ate together more and more. And slowly breakfast became a constant again, though it was never the same. Some mornings there was bacon and eggs, and some mornings there were waffles, and some mornings, when they didn’t have to be anywhere, there was curling up on the couch in their PJs eating cereal, or leftover cookies that Cassandra had brought to work the day before.

There was the occasional morning when they’d buy a bag of bagels and bring it into the Library for their whole family to share. There was the Valentines day she’d woken up to a plate of heart-shaped pancakes, and a Librarian holding open his arms with hands stained red with food-coloring. There was the morning they were leaving for vacation, when he barged into their bedroom with a plate of gingerbread pancakes, complete with syrup, whipped cream, gumdrops, and a candle….and an off-key rendition of _Happy Birthday_ , the morning that had resulted in half an eye-roll, half a smile, and noses covered in whipped cream as they kissed under the covers.

There were mornings when there was nothing more than breakfast sandwiches from the local bagel-store in the car on their way to work. There were mornings with burnt bacon, mornings with sticky, syrupy kisses, and mornings when breakfast was nothing more than two large cups of coffee before a 6-AM mission. But through all the differences and varieties, breakfast was a constant, and the constant was him. Just like with her childhood Lucky Charms, breakfast meant home.

The first morning he was gone, she didn’t eat breakfast.

It wasn’t that she meant to leave it out; she’d come to like breakfast. But when she dragged herself out of bed that morning, when she opened the fridge, nothing caught her eye: not the eggs, not yesterday’s leftover pancake batter, not the yogurt. not the orange juice. What was nice about all of them was preparing them with him, eating them with him, and with no Librarian leaning over shoulder making annoying suggestions about what they should have that morning, she didn’t really feel like anything. So she got dressed, pulled her hair into a bun, made a coffee, and walked out the door.

And then there was morning after “Team-Building camp”. Exhausted, she was immediately annoyed to be awake, until she heard whispering coming from the kitchen. It wasn’t Flynn-she knew his voice instantly-and so, ready for anything, she grabbed her gun from her side-table drawer and made her way out of the bedroom, keeping against the walls.

She finally made it into the kitchen, and just as she had jumped into a fighting stance, preparing to shoot, she exhaled and put down her gun. The other Librarians were standing around her kitchen counter, and there was food everywhere. Stone was standing over the stove, Cassandra was arranging fruit onto a plate, and Ezekiel was eating a dry pancake.

Eve smiled in spite of herself; her Librarians always liked to look after her. So she went and put away her gun, and she forced herself to let go of all of her negative thoughts, and they had a carefree brunch all morning and half the afternoon. Bagels, muffins, pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, French-toast: they’d thought of everything. It was a breakfast fit for Kings.

Then the next morning came and she was alone again. Once again, she opened her fridge, and once again nothing caught her eye. But she didn’t have anywhere to go today, and she couldn’t really ignore the grumbling in her stomach. She thought for a moment, threw on some clothes, grabbed her keys, and headed out the door.

Twenty minutes later she walked back into the apartment, threw the bag from the supermarket on the counter, grabbed a bowl from the pantry, and the milk from the fridge. She grabbed the paper from outside, and made a cup of coffee, and sat on the couch, and ate a bowl of Lucky Charms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter! That ending with the Lucky Charms felt like it needed to still be an ending, but I couldn't just leave it at that now that they're back to Happily Ever After! This chapter's more traditional story style, an inside look into one those breakfasts described earlier. Enjoy!

Her eyes shot open when she smelt the coffee. Because somehow, in her first moments of waking, it didn’t register with her, she didn’t remember. But she smelt the coffee, and then she knew.

 _He’s home_.

Wrapping her robe hanging on the bedpost around her, and shimmying into her slippers, she trotted into the kitchen and found him, just as he’d been on that first ever morning, standing over a pan on the stove.

She smiled softly and just stood there watching him for a few moments. It was so good, so _right_ , to have him back home here, and really all she wanted to do was take him in. He was here, he was safe, and okay, and alive, and he was still hers. He never left. He was still her home.

She snuck up from behind and wrapped her arms around him. He startled slightly and turned, his face lighting up with a smile when he saw her.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied, and laid a kiss on his lips.

He smiled at her for a few more moments and then turned back to the pan. She pressed her chin into his shoulder and squeezed him tight.

“What are you doing up making breakfast?” she asked, trying to drag him away from the stove. “You should be in bed.”

“Eve,” he replied. “I’m fine.”

“Flynn what I saw when we were in that alternate world…”

Eve cringed, still unable to release the image of him lying limp on the bed in that padded room. She didn’t really know him then, but now, still able to remember all of it, to think about what Nicole did to him, what he went through over and over again….

Flynn put down his spatula and turned around, grabbing her around the waist.

“I’m okay Eve,” he assured her. “None of it really happened. Remember?”

“But we can still remember it,” she replied. “You remember what happened and…

“Yes,” he said, running his hands down her arms to grab her hands. He swung them slightly between them and ran his fingers over her knuckles. “And because I remember it all I remember that I missed making you breakfast.”

Eve laughed as he leaned down and started kissing her fingertips, which seemed to be his favorite thing to do.

“I’m your _Guardian_ ,” she said remember. “I’m supposed to worry. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“Yes, and I’m your Librarian.” Flynn teased. “And your husband, if you so choose to view it that way,”

“As I’ve said I do,”

“I’m allowed to make you breakfast,” he said. “I want to.”

Eve smiled before laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his middle. With everything reset, he still smelt like old books and charcoal and oranges, the smell she’d longed to have in a candle for those weeks that he was gone. So she closed her eyes and she breathed it in.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice halfway to a cry.

There was silence for a moment, and he pressed a long kiss to the top of her head.

“I know,” he whispered.

They stayed there for a moment and she squeezed him tight, before he pushed her away from him and wiped away the tears that had fallen from her eyes.

 “Come on,” he said excitedly. “Enough of this! We’ve got some breakfast to eat!”

He turned to the stove again, but still held onto her hand.

“Over easy eggs and extra-crispy bacon,” he said, lifting food out of the pan and onto the plates sitting on the counter next to him.

“My favorite,” she said, wrapping her arms around him again. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget?” he teased.

They shared a kiss again before he turned around and grabbed the plates.

“Breakfast Guardian?” he asked, holding them out to her.

“Breakfast sounds lovely Librarian,” she replied.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Eve said, as Flynn walked over to the table with the food.

Eve opened the cabinet and took out two mugs. She was about to pour the coffee when she found couldn’t help but turn around and watch him. He was busy setting the table, silverware and plates and all, and there was a bounce in his step as he moved from place to place. His hips swayed slightly when he was standing still, and even from there she could hear him humming.

She smiled softly and dipped her chin down to her chest. She’d missed this so much. Her eyes fell upon the coffee pot in her hands then, and the distinct, familiar fumes wafted up into her nose. She looked back over at him once more, and then closed her eyes.

It was breakfast time. She was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your love and support as always LITs! Stay magical, and here's to season 5! <3


End file.
